


Worth a Shot

by BlueRoanSky



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Gen, I probably shouldn't even post this because it's probably terrible, I'm not even sure what to put for tags, Post-Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:39:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5326091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRoanSky/pseuds/BlueRoanSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murphy tries to figure out what he is, if he's not a criminal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth a Shot

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while bored and extremely tired after a long day of work, so I'm not really sure what I think of this story. It was inspired by a random thought about what might happen if Murphy tried to be something other than a criminal in a more literal way than just attitude-wise. Figured I'd post it in case other people liked it. 
> 
> _(Not beta-read)_

Murphy is out on a hunt when he realizes that he hates hunting. He doesn’t really mind getting up early in the morning, but after that, everything else is annoying. He hates having to creep quietly through the forest _just in case_ there’s an animal nearby; he hates being out in the forest, in general; and he hates being stuck with other people. It probably doesn’t help that he doesn’t know any of the people he’s with, but they all dislike him anyway. 

Word of mouth is a bitch. 

It’s all Jaha’s fault he’s even out of the camp to begin with, which is ironic since Murphy hasn’t seen Jaha since the fucker left him on a beach to go chase a drone. Murphy waited a few days in the abandoned lighthouse he found before deciding that waiting was boring and Jaha was an ass and waiting for an ass was just stupid. On the way back across the water, he thought that risking death-by-sea-monster was also stupid, but in a different, more acceptable way. 

Luckily, he didn’t run into the sea monster and it was mostly smooth sailing the rest of the way back to Camp Jaha. Still, having rid himself of Jaha, Murphy couldn’t get Jaha’s words out of his head. More specifically, Murphy couldn’t stop thinking, _If I’m not a criminal, then what am I?_ Which is what led to him deciding that he may as well try and be useful around camp while he figures it out, considering he’s still the most disliked. 

Of course, that brilliant thought process is what made him offer to go out hunting in an attempt to figure out if he can be a hunter instead of a criminal. But, less than twenty minutes out on the hunt, he’s already hating it. Not the most promising results. 

In an attempt to distract himself from his growing boredom and annoyance (because some of the worst fuck-ups of his life happened when he was bored and annoyed), he focuses on the leader of their group. He’s an older man whose name Murphy either forgot or never knew, but who he’s taken to thinking of as Scraggly Beard Man—Scraggly for short—on account of his scraggly beard. Murphy is pretty sure that Scraggly is trying to track, but he’s equally sure that Scraggly sucks at it. 

_Finn would be so much better at this,_ Murphy thinks, before instantly regretting it. It’s been a while since he’s let himself think of Finn because thinking of Finn leads to thinking of Finn being tortured by Grounders—though he was mercifully spared—and that leads to Murphy thinking of his own— 

He shakes his head to clear the thoughts before they can finish. Memories of the Grounders will be waiting for him in his nightmares. No need to bring them on early. _Besides,_ he reminds himself, _you’re supposed to be hunting._

Which is when he realizes that he’s alone. 

Evidently, he was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice the others moving on without him. He casts a glance around him, but he doesn’t see them anywhere amongst the trees. It doesn’t seem possible, what with how slow Scraggly was walking earlier, but Murphy doesn’t even see or hear any sign of them. They might as well have vanished into thin air. 

Murphy shivers. Being alone in the forest wasn’t at all his intention when he volunteered to join a hunting party. Passing through the forest alone when he was traveling back to Camp Jaha had been enough for him, and he’d been determined to not let it happen again. Yet here he is, abandoned and alone—again. 

Annoyed (because being annoyed is better than being scared), he turns and heads back in the direction of the camp. He’s not going to waste his time searching for a group that clearly doesn’t mind leaving him behind. Besides, he found his answer. 

He’s definitely _not_ a hunter. 

 

So maybe he can’t go and hunt the meat, but he might be able to cook it. At least, that’s what Murphy reasoned when he offered to try cooking some of the food brought back by the hunters later that day. So now he’s sitting by one of the campfires, slowly turning meat on a makeshift spit because no one wanted to waste any of the good cooking materials on him. 

He was instructed very carefully by one of the regular cooks to _never take his eyes away from the fire,_ because apparently, if he looks away for even just two seconds, the meat will burn. Begrudgingly, he follows the advice, if only because there isn’t much to look at away from the fire anyway. He doesn’t remember what animal provided the meat he’s currently cooking, but he assumes it’ll look the same as any other animal meat when it’s finished. He just has to wait. 

It isn’t long, though, before his mind starts to wander. And as he stares at the meat burning from the fire, he hears screams—his own screams—amidst cruel laughter. A Grounder appears on the other side of the fire and Murphy jumps, wondering how he missed the Grounder approaching. The Grounder is crouching, a sneer on his face, and Murphy remembers the expression far too well. He saw it often during— 

“What the hell are you doing?” a voice screeches. 

The Grounder disappears as Murphy flinches and looks toward the source of the voice. The cook from before is hurrying toward him, her face red with anger. He suddenly realizes that he smells burning meat and he looks back at the fire to see the charred remains of the meat he was cooking. He looks away from it and toward the cook when she reaches him. 

“What did I tell you?” she demands, glaring at him. “ _Don’t look away from the fire for even a second._ Isn’t that what I told you?” 

“Yeah, but—” Murphy starts, and then stops. What can he say to explain his mistake that she’d actually care to hear? 

She waits a few moments for him to finish before seeming to realize that they’ll both end up staring at each other the rest of the day unless she says something. “You’re off cooking duty, Mr. Murphy,” she says with a frustrated sigh. 

Murphy shrugs and heads for his tent without looking back. So he’s not a cook. He’ll just find something else. 

 

Despite racking his brain for other things that he might be able to do, Murphy still hasn’t come up with anything by nightfall. He considered trying to be a guard, but there’s just the _small_ problem that no one seems to trust him, which doesn’t bode well for his chances of being accepted. Besides, he’d probably be bored out of his mind while guarding a bunch of people that don’t even like him. 

He thought of being an herb gatherer, or something along those lines, but of course, he’ll probably end up on his own in the forest again, so that’s out. He knows without trying that he can’t sew clothing or put bullets together or anything like that. Unfortunately, he can’t think of anything else that he can try. 

His musings are interrupted by Bellamy’s invasion into his tent. Bellamy raises an eyebrow at him and Murphy stares back blankly. He refuses to explain to Bellamy why he’s just lying on his cot in his tent. For all Bellamy knows, it’s Murphy’s favorite pastime. 

“Having a good time?” Bellamy asks, because he has to make a joke about everything, apparently. 

“The best,” Murphy says, because _he_ has to be snarky at every possible chance. 

Bellamy sits on the floor, looking like he thinks he owns Murphy’s tent. Murphy feels a vague spark of annoyance, but he ignores it. Bellamy is the only one that doesn’t seem to outright hate him anymore. No point in ruining that. 

“I heard you went hunting earlier,” Bellamy finally says after a couple minutes of silence. 

“’Course you did.” 

“How was it?” 

“Shitty,” Murphy says, annoyed all over again by the reminder. 

Bellamy watches him for a moment before asking, “So, then you tried to cook?” 

“Yeah.” Murphy frowns slightly, wondering why Bellamy is suddenly so interested in rehashing Murphy’s day. 

One corner of Bellamy’s mouth raises in an amused half-smile. “I’m not a huge fan of charcoal, you know.” 

“Fuck off,” Murphy mutters. “I got distracted.” 

“Oh?” Bellamy says, sounding interested. “How’d you get so distracted as to completely murder dinner?” 

“For the record, dinner was already murdered,” Murphy snaps. “And it’s none of your business.” 

Bellamy raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay. Point taken,” he says. “I do have one question, though?” 

Murphy resists sighing. “What?” 

“Why’re you suddenly volunteering to go hunting and trying to cook? You’ve been back for a couple weeks and you haven’t really done anything.” Before Murphy can get too upset, Bellamy adds hurriedly, “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I just want to know what prompted the change in your behavior.” 

“What’s it to you, anyway?” 

“I’m just curious, is all.” 

Murphy glares at Bellamy suspiciously before giving in. “Guess it doesn’t matter if I tell you,” he says. “Jaha made this stupid comment about how I should stop thinking I’m a criminal, so I started thinking of what I can be instead of a criminal.” 

Murphy expects Bellamy to laugh, but he only looks thoughtful. Murphy tries to think of something to say to break what he perceives as an awkward silence, but Bellamy speaks first. 

“Well, it seems you’re not a hunter or a cook.” 

“Nope.” 

“How about being a friend?” 

The question takes Murphy by surprise and he blinks. “Whose?” 

“Mine?” Bellamy suggests. 

“You want to be friends,” Murphy says, because he’s sure that he heard wrong. 

“Yeah,” Bellamy says without hesitation. “It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?” 

Murphy stares at him, waiting for the catch or trick. But Bellamy just stares back, looking as innocent as Bellamy is capable of looking. Eventually, Murphy shrugs, looking down. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he says. He’s not a hunter or a cook, and he probably won’t ever be a guard, but maybe he can be Bellamy’s friend. 

It’s worth a shot, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
